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[crownless]

[It's never anything drastically important, or anything terribly "serious", as much as he'd hate to use a loaded term like that. They're friends in the same business, is all, and they've at least got an understanding there. If he gets bored, he rings Wade, and they go out and do... something. Anything. Killing time between jobs (that they've made very sure to not have intersect again, thanks very much) and blowing off steam together quickly becomes their routine as the time goes and goes.

Not that it bothers Travis. Doing nothing with somebody (and occasionally doing, heh, something), he's always thought, is the true test of getting along on the long term, and he likes Wade. He's a good guy, and he hasn't gotten to really waste time with somebody on a regular basis since Bishop. It's comfortable, and not an arrangement he's looking to budge on anytime soon.

Because Wade's a damn good friend, all things considered. ...Emphasis on "friend".

And to further emphasize that "friend" part, they've taken to proving they can wingman for each other and for the love of god it's gonna work this time.

Travis sighs, dials the familiar number, and waits for the ringing to stop.]

Hey, we still goin' anywhere tonight?

Comments

2/3 oh my god this turned out massive im' so sorry

[crownless]

Huh? [This is the third time tonight that he hasn't been fully paying attention to a girl who actually wants to fuck him. It's almost funny enough for him to laugh at.] Yeah, of course I am. I'm ready whenever you are. [He's not. Across the bar, Wade's fingers wrap around the glass. Wade's arm holds it aloft in a toast-- he's heard we're leaving-- and Wade's lips touch the rim as he swallows the drink down. (does he knock the glass with his teeth? he's almost, almost paying enough attention to know but he can't tell for sure, so far away.) Wade makes a face at the alcohol creeping down his throat (god his nose wrinkled that's fucking cute), and then he

simply leaves.

Travis' stomach feels like it's tumbled out of his body. Rosalyn's noticed. She's gotten up already and is now staring at him with an eyebrow raised and a mouth turned down. Rosalyn says something about getting up, mentions directions, and he nods, lamely, only half-there, mechanically leaving the barstool and getting back on his feet. Her hand moves to take his arm.

Travis takes a step back and it's like he's looking right through her. It takes all he's got to bury the urge to just sprint out the door and after Wade, right then and there.

She's puzzled, even a little bit hurt; no fucking shit Sherlock, you were supposed to screw her and now you won't even touch her. He hastily grabs Wade's keys and stuffs them in his pocket, where they briefly jingle against one another.] Sorry.

[His tone's low, reserved. He looks so damn pathetic that Rosalyn can't slap him across the face like she wants to.] Are you okay? [He mildly responds with an 'I'm fine', and she continues--] Are we going or not? Because if you aren't doing this, that's fine. But you really need to tell me and stop spacing out like this.

[Finally, he shifts his full attention back to her. He absolutely cannot believe anything that is coming out of his mouth right now.] ...No. It's not you, you're awesome, I swear. I just... can't right now.

[Still not comfortable with this non-resulution, Rosalyn glances from Travis' face to what his eyes are directed at. What the hell has this guy changing his mind so suddenly? He isn't even looking at anything, either, just $20 and the empty glass on the b-- Oh. Oh. The gears click neatly into place.]

Huh. [She takes a quick look over her shoulder-- at the vacant doorway-- and sighs wearily.] Okay. I understand. [Although she's disappointed, there's still a mark of that earlier warmth left.] Listen, Travis, I'm going to do you a favor. I'm going home-- and I'm not going to give you my number. Okay? Think about what that is supposed to mean for you.

[He nods.]

Good boy. [He barely moves when Rosalyn kisses him on the cheek.] It was nice to meet you, Travis. I had fun. [She smiles for him one last time and disappears in the crowd.]